


Lights Out

by maddmaddworld



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddmaddworld/pseuds/maddmaddworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss & Peeta have a very enjoyable power outage.</p>
<p>A very short drabble I wrote to get my feet wet in the HG Fan Fic universe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Originally written for Kismet, and also a huge thanks to Amelia for the invite so I can finally post it here. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Amelia_Day (amelia_day)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia_day/gifts).



I huff and roll my eyes, even though I know she can’t see it. “I can’t see my own hand, Katniss, what makes you think I can see you?” It’s pitch black in my house. It’s late at night. I can’t see my feet or anything in front of me. I have effectively trapped myself in the kitchen for fear of running into something. I haven’t moved a muscle since the power knocked out twenty minutes ago. Apparently, Katniss has night vision. What the hell else is new? I don’t do well in the dark. I don’t do well with anxiety. This situation is not ideal no matter how I look at it.

I hear her speak, much closer than I expected. “You should be able to tell where I am because of my voice.”

I roll my eyes again. “Well, Huntress, obviously I have hearing problems because I feel like you’re right on top of m—“ I cut off abruptly as something brushes against my cock. “HEY! Dear god, please tell me that was your hand.”

I can almost hear her smirking. “That was my hand,” she purrs, and I can feel her hot breath on my neck. I reach out to grab her and pull her tightly to me. She kisses my neck and my cheek, and then I feel her hand slip down to my belt buckle, loosening it.

Katniss expertly opens the buckle and slides her hand into my jeans and under my boxer-briefs. I’m quickly developing a promising hard on, despite being slightly terrified that I can’t even see her facial expression. “Uhh, wow…” She grabs me and starts stroking, bringing me to attention. 

“Ungh…babe, that’s—oh yes. What are you doing?”

I am trying to keep a level head. I’m standing in the middle of my pitch black kitchen with my pants undone and my girlfriend is…oh god…is…perfect. That’s what she is. Perfect.

Katniss giggles quietly, “Taking advantage of the situation.” She continues to stroke me, brushing her thumb over the head of my cock, making me thrust involuntarily. She moans and kisses me roughly, and I feel myself stiffen even more.

“I couldn’t—oh god—I wouldn’t be able to find a condom right now if my life depended on it.”

That evil cackle she’s so good at passes her lips. “Who said anything about sex?” 

“Katn—hmm—you’re killing me here.” Suddenly she’s gone. She’s stopped touching me and I can’t see her in front of me. “Where is your face, I can’t see you anym—that’s my pants. Babe, you really don’t have to—oh god yes.” I feel my jeans and my boxer-briefs drop to my ankles and then suddenly her mouth is on me and her tongue is gliding over the tip of my dick and her hand is stroking me and I can’t remember why I was anxious at all.

She stops and grabs my hips, stroking them lightly. She knows I can’t see her face. She knows what this kind of darkness does to me. The gesture is loving, not sexual. “Do you want me to stop?”

I huff and grab for where I think her shoulder is. I find it and move my arm up to run my fingers through her hair. “Please don’t.”

“Okay then,” she hums, and takes me into her mouth once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Kitchen orgasm. This gets more into a plot that I'm working on, so it might make no sense, but it follows directly after the first part so I figured I'd post it. :)

I am in post-orgasm bliss when I realize that Katniss is no longer kneeling before me. I put my arms out and try to find her, fear creeping back into my veins. I fucking hate the dark. Even the streetlights outside are out of service. There is no residual light coming from the window. My eyes have adjusted enough to vaguely see my hand as I reach for Katniss and realize she’s nowhere near me.

“Katniss? Where are you?”

No reply. She wouldn’t have just…left…after that, right? In the dark? Without saying anything? 

I’m panicking. Darkness doesn’t usually bring good things into my life. “Katniss?” I call again.

I hear shuffling from the living room and my heart starts beating again when she gently replies, “I’m here, hang on a sec.”

I let out a heavy breath, but I’m still not okay with the fact that she’s so far away. “I couldn’t feel you. Where did you go?” Okay, maybe I turn into a bit of a lost puppy when I’m feeling insecure. Maybe. Just a little. 

“I just wanted to find a flashlight really quick.” She’s still nowhere near me, but I hear her quietly laughing at the way I’m flailing my arms out to find her.

I’m getting frustrated. I’d really like to get out of this kitchen. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“Yes, Peeta?”

I sigh. “Please come here. I feel trapped in this kitchen. I can’t see shit.”

I hear her moving toward me and then I feel her wrap her arm around my waist, dragging her hand down to grab my naked ass, which makes me jump. “Not fair.” She runs her fingers through the curls at the nape of my neck and leans up to kiss my nose. She turns on the flashlight so I can finally see her. Her smile is huge and her eyes are sparkling.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can you get us to the couch?” I ask. I really, really need to sit down. 

I think she can see how uncomfortable I am, because instead of the snarky comment I’m waiting for, she replies, “Yes, want to sit?” She flicks the flashlight on and off a few times and leans up to kiss my cheek again. She’s being overly sweet. I must look more panicked than I think. 

I nod vigorously. “My legs are like jelly. I would love to sit.” 

“Alright, I’ll lead you over there, blind man,” she pokes as I start to move my feet. “Don’t forget your pants are—“ Too late. My pants are still around my ankles, and I trip and hit my hip on the corner of the kitchen island. Hard. “Oh,” Katniss mutters, trying to stifle her giggle. “Sorry.”

I can’t decide if my pride or my hip hurts worse. I bend down to pull my pants back up and put myself together while whining, “That fucking hurt.”

She grabs my hand when I’m finished and drags me through the house. It’s a common Mellark downfall—night blindness—and right now I just want to curl up and sulk, all post-orgasm happiness gone from my body. “Are you okay?” 

She gets us to the couch, where I fall with an unceremonious “Hmph.” I expect that Katniss will leave me to sulk—she doesn’t handle whining very well, and that’s exactly all that I am doing: whining—but instead she sets the fat flashlight on the table, facing up. It projects just enough light through the living room that I can see the basic outlines of myself, and my things, and her. She sits down close to me and pulls my arm out of my lap before wrapping herself in it, securing her body against mine. 

I pull her closer and place a kiss on the top of her head. “Mmmhmm.”  
She is silent for a few moments, drawing circles on my chest with her fingers, before asking, “Are you ever going to explain to me why you’re so afraid of the dark?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked, and it’s not the first time I’m going to dodge the question. Some things I’m just not ready to divulge. We’ve been together—finally—for only 6 months. I’m not quite ready to scare her away yet. She knows the basics of how my father died. Everyone knows that. But the details are terrifying, no matter who you are. She doesn’t need to know yet. 

“Bad things happen in the dark. No good can come from lack of light. People get hurt. People get lost.”

Katniss contemplates this for awhile. “Well, I wouldn’t call what happened in the kitchen a bad thing, would you?” Her voice is small, tentative.

I balk at the question. She couldn’t possibly think I didn’t enjoy that, right? “Of course not. You’re wonderful. I just have a rough time with this,” I reassure her.

I feel her nod into my chest. “So you’re telling me that if the power goes out again, I should just get you somewhere comfortable and take advantage of you until you forget that you’re mostly blind and terrified?”

I chuckle, taking this as a hint to drop the subject for now. “That would be ideal, yes.”

She kisses my chest, right above my heart. “Mellark, you are a strange, strange man.”

I wrinkle my nose and pull her closer. I wish I had more answers for her, but I’m just not ready. “Sorry.”

“Hey. I adore you. You can be as strange as you want, as long as you adore me, too.”

I grab the hand that lies on my chest and kiss her palm. “Oh, I do, Katniss. You have no idea how much I do.”

And that’s when the power comes back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this will become anything more than connected drabbles, but I'm giving it a shot! This plot and these versions of Katniss & Peeta have been rolling around in my head for awhile. I'll probably add a few more drabbles. They may not be in order plot-wise, but they'll all fit in this world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta comes home. Katniss has a conniption and a confession.

“I don’t want to do this.”

I’m having heart palpitations. I’m pacing our living room in a white tank top and baggy gray sweatpants, my hair frizzy from running my fingers through it, and I think Johanna Mason is on a mission to make me drop dead.

Johanna scoffs at me and walks out of the kitchen with three beers in her hands. “I don’t care. He’s a good friend and he needs a change. Being home for the first time in a decade isn’t going to be easy. He needs to get back out there.”

She sets the beers down on the coffee table and then moves to grab me by the shoulders. She stares into my eyes with her Why-Are-You-Making-This-So-Hard-You-Fucking-Imbecile face and listens as I continue to rant. 

“So take him OUT. Don’t bring him over to OUR house!”

“Why are you so upset about this? It’s just Peeta.”

I stutter. _Peeta Fucking Mellark _is coming to our house. Jo doesn’t get it. No one does. She gives me a curious glare and drops my shoulders. “Whatever, I’m not changing out of my sweatpants,” I snap as I move to the couch and plop down Indian-style. I grab a beer off the table and down half of it quickly.__

“Suit yourself,” Johanna replies, rolling her eyes and going back to the kitchen to fetch dinner. She’s prepared quite a spread in honor of our guest: frozen pizza, tater tots, taquitos and potstickers. Basically, everything from our freezer is now on a plate, paired with sauces of all kinds. This is about as fancy as we get. 

She returns to the living room a moment later with our feast and sets it up on the coffee table. I don’t know how to explain to her why seeing Peeta Mellark is such a big deal to me, but I know she’s going to embarrass me if I don’t speak up, so I try. “Johanna.”

She positions herself next to me on the couch, giving herself a good view of the front window for when Peeta shows up. “What, Katniss?”

I try to start easy, “What if…” Nope. Try again. “What do I say to him?”

Johanna cocks an eyebrow at me. “Why are you so nervous?”

If only I could explain that. “It’s…he’s…”

But of course, Johanna gets it. She gets it before I even have the words to vocalize it. 

“Oh my god.” Her eyes go wide with the realization. I’m mortified. 

_Play dumb, Katniss._ “What?” She just rolls her eyes at me. 

“You have a thing for Peeta Mellark.”

“NO! No, I don’t!”

“You do. You’re blushing. Katniss, how long have you had a thing for the baker's son?”

I fidget. My free hand plays with the frayed ends of my sweatpants while the other twirls my beer. “Umm…”

“Katniss.”

_Just do it. It’ll be better to get it over with. _“Since high school?”__

Johanna snorts her beer, “Oh Jesus. You’ve had the hots for bread boy since we were teenagers? How come you never said anything? To ANYONE?” She’s looking at me like I have three heads. Perhaps that’s the reason I never said anything. 

“Because, Jo, he’s Peeta Fucking Mellark. He can get— _and has had_ —every girl he wants. It’s not like he would want anything to do with me. All I do is sit in an office all day. He teaches Art to starving college students. He started that amazing foundation to help keep art in schools, he’s…”

Johanna shakes her head roughly and stands up. “First, you’re really assuming a lot about him if you think he’s gotten every girl he’s ever wanted.” She shakes her head and giggles to herself, like she’s privy to some big secret. “Secondly,” she continues, “He’s a single twenty-something who watched his father bleed out on his living room floor when he was thirteen. And his car just pulled into the drive. Pull your shit together, Everdeen. We’re doing this.” She giggles to herself as she walks to the door, and I vaguely hear her mutter, “…Nine years and she doesn’t even fucking tell me…”

I hear her greet him with a, “Hey, Mellark! You look great!”

I sit and stare down, playing with the label on my almost-empty beer. 

“Thanks, Jo. It’s good to be home.” 

They make their way into our living room, joking and laughing like old friends— _they are old friends, you dolt, you’re the one who couldn’t speak to him. _He pauses and waves at me when they reach the living room, the corner of his mouth rising just slightly to one side.__

__The first thing I notice when Peeta Mellark walks into the room are the tattoos. He’s not covered, just…smattered, with beautiful artwork. I see some sort of script on his neck, and a sprawling meadow with…is that dandelions? Yes, dandelions on his upper arm and green grass and...the tree. My tree. It sits in the meadow at the edge of town, and I grew up climbing it. It’s my safe haven. I wonder how he could possibly know this tree exists, and then I remember that he lived here, too. He’s not a stranger.  
Peeta Mellark has finally come home._ _

__And God dammit, does he look good. He fills in his jeans in all the right places, and his curly hair is tamed and cropped close to his head. His arms are bulging out of that t-shirt that I’d just love to rip off of him and—_ _

__Shit. I should be over this by now._ _

__I’ve been staring as he and Jo reacquaint. I haven’t moved from my post on the couch, but when he turns to look at me again I immediately stand up. Why didn’t I put on real pants? God, I must look like a complete slob._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry--not in order--but I'm just kind of going with this as it comes to me. Wrote these awhile ago and I'm kind of excited to post them. :)


End file.
